


My Love

by prouvairecateur



Series: 'Prompt Me' Drabbles-Les Mis [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: It may be too much for those who are sensitive to topics of death and dying, M/M, Please heed the warning about major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairecateur/pseuds/prouvairecateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The group remained silent as he walked away. When he had disappeared from their sight completely, Grantaire peered over to see what had been written on the outside of the envelope. There, in Jehan’s elegant script, were the two words that were always uttered when Jehan and Courfeyrac addressed each other: ‘my love’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt sent to me as part of a meme on tumblr.

The doctors had done all they could do, but it still wasn’t enough to save him. They said his death was not painful; dying in your sleep was the easiest way to go, they told him when they sat down with him. Their pats on the back were no more reassuring than their words. 

Jehan looked down at his ink-smudged hands and a single tear fell on them. He was gone. He had been preparing for this for some time now, but nothing could prepare him for the emptiness he felt. He would never hear his laugh again, or see the man’s smile whenever he walked into the room. He would never see his Courfeyrac again.

The funeral was held a week later. Many of Jehan’s friends were surprised to see that he wasn’t in attendance. Everyone paid their respects, but only the closest friends and family stayed the entire time. 

Feuilly was the first one to spot Jehan walking toward the group huddled near the burial site. The ceremony was over, but the friends had stayed to pay their respects privately. As he approached the group, they could tell he was in pretty bad shape; his eyes were bruised from lack of sleep, his skin was pale with red blotches, and he looked as though he hadn’t eaten in a week. 

No one said anything as he joined them. To be honest, they didn’t know what to say to the poet. They just watched silently as he approached the casket, placing a hand on the cold wood. His head was bowed, and those closest could hear him whispering under his breath. Jehan pulled a single flower from his jacket pocket, along with an envelope. There was already a stack of flowers atop the casket, and Jehan gave a small smile as he added his flower to the top of the pile. He carefully fitted the envelope between to flower stems and patted it to make sure it would stay securely. 

Without saying a word, the poet turned to face his friends. They could all see that he was trying his hardest not to cry. He turned to Grantaire, who was closest to him, and fell into his arms. The man pulled Jehan into him and held him. Jehan’s back began to shake as his tears now fell freely. He murmured ‘thank you’ over and over- a thank you to those who were there with him through everything. 

Grantaire just held him tightly and ran one hand up and down the man’s back. Tears were falling from his eyes, as he comforted his friend. He whispered comforting words in his friend’s ear. Looking up at the other men and women gathered around, he gave a helpless look, as if to say that he wasn’t sure what to do.

The rest of the group approached the pair, careful not to overwhelm Jehan. He must have seen them approaching, because he pulled away from Grantaire to face them. Grantaire kept a reassuring hand on the man’s back. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he gave them all a soft smile. 

He approached each of them individually and gave them a hug, saying a quiet ‘thank you’. No one said anything as he did this; they just held him close and let him do what he had to do. When Jehan had embraced every one of his friends, he returned to Grantaire’s side. The pair exchanged a few words, quiet so they couldn’t be heard. All the while Grantaire gripped Jehan’s hand in his, a way of supporting his friend. Before he said goodbye, Grantaire pulled him into yet another embrace, which Jehan returned fervently. They held onto each other for several minutes, with their friends watching on; then, all at once, Jehan nodded and made his leave.

The group remained silent as he walked away. When he had disappeared from their sight completely, Grantaire peered over to see what had been written on the outside of the envelope. There, in Jehan’s elegant script, were the two words that were always uttered when Jehan and Courfeyrac addressed each other: ‘my love’.


End file.
